The history that built this place took thousands of years. 

You walk by, skimming over plaques of the past. 

You skim not read; you have too much to see. 

this painting traveled the sea, 

this pot, taken from the Sahara, 

this plant was very the last of its kind, 

this person was very first to discover this land, 

this person was a dictator who killed millions on millions, 

this person was a savior of one hundred people, but one hundred is nothing near millions, 

this person was a slave, but you don’t know their name because that’s not in any museums. 

Do you care? Do you keep walking? Do you even try to look this portrait, this statue, this person in the eye? Do you share your privilege, or do you just keep going? From museum to museum, from country to country until you are no more than the artifacts you pass by. Travelling from the sea to the Sahara until you become the last of your kind. Until you become the artifact held within.  

Now stop. Ask yourself,  

if you were among this very exhibit, 

would you stop to actually read your own plaque? 

Would you consider the privilege it took to end up here? 

Or would you just keep skimming by?